


Hidden

by snassty



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Incest, Incestuous feelings, M/M, POV Second Person, alcohol use, probably somewhat slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snassty/pseuds/snassty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of stories assume Sans is the one to develop feelings first. That's not the case here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sans has always been there for you; to support you, to encourage you, to praise you. Even though the first few years of your childhood are something of a blur, all but lost to you, you know that Sans has been right by your side since the very beginning. And you've always loved him. Looked up to him. Respected him. Downright adored him.

You're not sure when your emotions blossomed into what they are now -- you love Sans far more than one should love one's older brother -- but you reason that that doesn't particularly matter. It simply feels like the right thing, this natural progression of your feelings from fraternal to something you might even call romantic.

You love Sans, and you love the way he makes you feel: strong, needed, cared for, important, cherished. Without Sans, "The Great Papyrus" wouldn't exist; you'd just be Papyrus, a skeleton with no sense of confidence or self-worth. Sans has helped you build those up. And there's nothing you wouldn't do for him in return.

Which leads you to the present, where you hide your feelings from him, not wanting to spoil this wonderful symbiosis the two of you have settled into. You can tell he's stressed out by something -- it's not your place to pry; if he wants to tell you, he will -- and you don't want to add to that stress with your unrequited affection. So you just continue to support him in your own way, making spaghetti, nagging him (gently) to get up and go to work, even bringing up The Sock that both of you know will never leave the living room.

This is fine. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is lacking.

So why do you feel like you need more...?


	2. Chapter 2

You probably would have mentioned your feelings to Sans by now, if not for obvious reasons, not the least of which being that you've heard him mention multiple times to multiple people that he's just not interested in any kind of committed romantic relationship. He does, however, have a handful of -- you hesitate to call them "friends" -- whom he cycles through after his occasional nights spent drinking at Grillby's.

You've learned not to announce your presence immediately upon arriving home; instead, you step in through the front door and listen for a few moments. And for good reason: tonight you're met with the sounds of Sans' lustmaking, mixed with the buzz of magic in the air. You quietly retreat back into the snow, closing the door behind you, shooting a distrustful glance at Grillby's as you turn and head towards Waterfall.

You can't bring yourself to come to terms with this feeling roiling inside of you. You don't want to be jealous; you have no right to be. Sans is no more "yours" than anyone else's, despite what your emotions try to tell you. And besides which, he's not interested in anything more than casual sex, so you'd never be able to have what you really crave from him, anyway: to hold him, caress him, whisper against his skull how much you adore him...

You sigh and lay back in the luminescent grass, and concede that the sex would probably be pretty damn good, too, if the town gossip is anything to go by. You think back to the growls and grunts you've walked in on, and -- ah, yes, you'd definitely like to hear sounds like that directed at you.

You're considering paying Undyne a visit when you realize your hand is at your waist, idly tracing along the crests of your pelvis, and you're... not exactly in a state to show up at your best friend's door. You close your eyes, and you let yourself get lost in the thought of Sans.

 

You return home some time later to a fresh set of footprints leading away from the house and soft snoring coming from upstairs. You tiptoe into your brother's room and make sure he's cocooned snugly in his blankets, and you can't help yourself from lightly petting his skull. He makes a small noise and just barely turns his head to lean ever so gently into your touch.

And oh, stars above, do you melt.

You want more than anything to climb under the covers next to him, wrap yourself around him, press your teeth against his skull, let yourself fall so much deeper...

But you tear yourself away and curl up in your own bed, by yourself, with only your misery to keep you company.

You just hope that Sans is content, at least.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this two chapters in one day??! UNHEARD OF

When you return home after a day's worth of work, Sans isn't there. (You know where he is.) You sigh and get started on dinner, figuring he'll stumble in at some point. Which he does -- with an obvious lack of companion hanging off his arm.

"You're by yourself." A hint of venom sneaks into your voice. Part of you hopes he doesn't notice it. Part of you hopes he does.

"yeh." Sans toes off his sneakers, swapping them for his fuzzy pink slippers. "i didn't - didn't feel like..." He frowns, as though talking requires much more effort than he'd planned for. "i was talkin' to grillbz," he restarts, planting his tailbone in a chair near where you're standing at the kitchen counter. "an' he said - he said i gotta stop runnin' away from my problems an' - he - he said." He lets out a sound somewhere between a burp and a hiccup. "he said i gotta tell ya."

Your spaghetti-stirring falters slightly. "Tell me what?" He doesn't answer; he just stands (a little shakily) and walks toward you. "Tell me _what,_ Sans."

"sshhhh." He embraces you from behind, pressing his skull against your back -- and suddenly his hands are slipping under your apron, up under your battle armor, fondling your lower ribs with gentleness and dexterity you never would have expected from someone as inebriated as Sans obviously is.

"S-Sans..." The sauce is boiling. "Wh - What are you doing...?"

"tellin' you the thing," he mumbles into your shoulderblade.

You reach mechanically to stir the sauce. "You're heavily intoxicated, brother."

He chuckles. It's a low, deep rumble of a sound that makes you shiver. "doesn' change how i feel, baby bro," he purrs, a hand wandering down your spine.

"Sans... No." It's difficult, but you force yourself to turn and gently push him away from you. "If you're serious about this, talk to me about it when you've sobered up. Alright?"

He looks up at you about as seriously as he can manage. "okay, pap."

 

Three days pass. He doesn't speak of it again.

This is fine. You're fine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's follow Sans around for a bit, shall we?~

_**(sans.)** _

The smell of grease comforts you as you step out of the cold and into your second home. A few regulars call out to you on your way to Your Barstool. You give them nods and waves of acknowledgement, but your attention's somewhere else: namely, the uncomfortable fuzziness in your skull that means you've forgotten something. Probably something important.

"Hey, Sansy." Miel slides onto the barstool beside you and motions to Grillby to pour you a drink. She fidgets with her long, floppy ears and the hem of her mini-dress -- you notice she "accidentally" flashes you a view that makes it very clear she isn't wearing anything underneath. It sends a jolt of magic straight to your pelvis. Shit. She knows you've got a thing for short skirts and no panties.

Grillby slides a glass over to you, and you bring it to your mouth and take a sip. This is a much more pleasant fuzziness, one that strokes sensually at the outer edges of your mind. As you place the glass back down on the counter, you meet Grillby's gaze. He's looking at you with something akin to... concern? Worry? Even a hint of sadness, maybe -- but why? Why would he --

Oh.

Wait.

Wait, there's something.

Something within all the static. Grillby's face. A conversation. Prying Miel off you, and stumbling home, and then Papyrus...

Papyrus. Ah, yes. That utterly broken expression as he gently pushed you away and told you to come back and confess when you were sober.

And you hadn't.

"well, shit." You shove your drink over to Miel and swivel around in your stool, hopping off of it.

"Sansy, wait--"

"can't." Not even the promise of hot bunny ass is enough to make you stay. You fucked up, and you need to rectify it. At least, you hope you can. You open the front door to your house timidly and shuffle inside.

He's not home.

You plant yourself on the couch and wait for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. DeansP1e how did you manage to leave kudos 5 times??! Shoutout to you for that madness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's clear up some misunderstandings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops guess who forgot about literally every online responsibility for several months (hint: it was me)

**(PAPYRUS)**

Surprisingly, when you arrive home, Sans is waiting for you. In the kitchen. With the ingredients ready to make... lasagna. That's different. You haven't tried that dish again since the first time, and -- well, that went about as wrong as it could have gone.

"hey, pap." He gives you a sheepish smile. "i woulda made dinner, but i figured you'd be upset that you didn't get to help out, so i waited for you."

Your excitement is impossible to contain. You practically skip over to him and the two of you get started.

"What's all this about, Sans?" you ask after a while, once your initial excitement has worn off. "I can't remember the last time we cooked a meal together." You lay the final layer of noodles on the top, and he slides the pan into the oven, closing the door with a sigh.

He looks up at you. He's tired; you can see it in his eyes. Tired and sad and scared. He falls forward to embrace you, nuzzling into your chest, wrists crossing at the base of your spine. Instinctively, you lift your arms to return the gesture, and rest your chin on the top of his head, even though it requires you to bend over slightly.

"i'm sorry," he croaks finally. It hurts your Soul to hear him sounding so broken.

"For what, brother?" You stroke his skull soothingly.

"you told me to come back when i wasn't drunk, and then i never did. i only just remembered earlier tonight that that even happened."

"You can't help that you forgot."

"i still feel like shit that i... i hurt you like that, though."

"It's alright, Sans." The words come out numbly. "I know how alcohol works. It makes people say and do things they don't mean--"

"no, pap, that's not--" He clutches at your apron for a moment before chuckling and pulling away. "heh, actually, i guess that both is and isn't the problem here. i meant everything i said -- or, i guess, didn't say -- that night. but the fact that i didn't remember, and didn't come back to talk to you about it... i guess that made it look like entirely the opposite, huh?"

You're left speechless for a few moments. "So... that's why you didn't bring anyone home that night," you say slowly. "Because you wanted me instead."

He blushes and scratches the back of his head, averting his gaze to the floor. "i've wanted you for a while now, actually," he mumbles.

"Sans, I've been wanting you forever!" you blurt, immediately covering your mouth once the words escape. He looks back up at you and just smiles sadly.

"aw, paps, why didn't you say something?" he coos. Stars, that voice does things to you.

You cover more of your face. "Because you don't want a romantic relationship with anybody," you whimper.

"i don't want a relationship with anyone who's asked me thus far," he clarifies quietly. "the only person i'd ever want more than just an occasional fuck out of... well, he's never mentioned it." He chuckles, nervously scuffing the linoleum floor with the toe of his slipper. "aside from, y'know. bringing it up in passing during dinner prep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like a weird place to end it, but the next part kinda goes off on a tangent so i figured eh fuck it


End file.
